


Untitled

by Lipstickcat



Category: Sirens (UK)
Genre: M/M, au hooker!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lipstickcat/pseuds/Lipstickcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hooker AU fic. Written for  Janie_tangerine for the 5 Acts Ficathon on Livejournal. Ashley Greenwick has taken a different walk in life, but he's still destined to meet Stuart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

Friday nights were always the worst for some reason. Stuart suspected that it had something to do with the build up. All those civilised, suited and booted people on the countdown since Sunday night, just waiting for the weekend to start again. They exploded as soon as the countdown hit zero, and shrapnel would have been too nice a thing to ask for as contents of these human time bombs. No. They were all full of piss and blood and vomit and spunk. And he got to clean it all up again afterwards. Lucky him. 

There was nothing good about letting Rachid drive, either. That left Stuart in the back of the ambulance doing the care giving, the cleaning up, the getting thrown up on and the being abused. By the time it got to 2am, he’d had enough and any traces of sympathy he might have had at the beginning of the night were well and truly gone. 

That’s not to say that he didn’t have compassion for the hooker involved in the shout that they were called to; he knew it wasn’t anyone’s ideal profession, and he knew they faced far worse abuse than he did. But all he wanted to do was patch them up and taxi them to the nearest hospital asap, and then finish his shift already. 

He shouldn’t have been so thrown when Maxine led him by the arm towards a tall, wavy haired guy in a tight t-shirt and jeans he imagined were actually painted onto the man’s legs. 

“He’s a nice lad,” she hissed in warning. “Look after him.” 

Despite the split eyebrow and blood trickling down his face, the rent boy smiled and it was like someone had turned on a light. Fucker had perfect white teeth and crinkles around his eyes. 

“Hi, I’m Stuart, and I’m going to be patching you up today.” After that smile he couldn’t help being what counted as jovial for him, though it might have been hard to spot if you didn’t know him well. 

“Hi Stuart, I’m Ash. I’m going to be your patient.” 

Fuck. Fucking Scottish twang. No wonder Maxine was so keen on him. 

At least he didn’t need to carry him to the ambulance. That was always a bonus. Using a sterile solution, Stuart moped up most of the spilt blood and cleaned up the other man’s face. If he spent more time than necessary getting the dried blood out from between those smile lines it was purely because he wanted to be sure he didn’t miss any other cuts, and it didn’t have anything to do with the way Ash silently gazed up at him with those almost violet eyes the whole time. 

Or maybe it did. But that was just an alpha thing, something hormonal reacting to the submissive posture and the clear smell of other men’s semen that the prostitute stank of. It didn’t mean anything, not even after Stuart handed him over at the hospital, finished his shift, went home and failed to ignore the need to wank to the memory of that too pretty, damaged face. 

It was a few days later, a Sunday afternoon drop off of a kid that have tried to put various pieces of lego up his nose, that Stuart saw him again. By some miracle, it was the first time that they’d returned to the hospital they’d left Ash at two nights previously, and while the EMT had caught himself wondering about the last patient he’d left there, he really hadn’t expected to see him. Ash would have been discharged the same night, after all. 

Two stitches above his eyebrow, but the same smile on his face, he cornered Stuart outside the hospital building as he was heading back to the ambulance.

“I wanted to thank you for looking after me the other night.” 

Stuart shook his head. “All in a day’s work.” 

“Yeah, well… Thanks anyway.” 

“Have you been waiting here since Friday to tell me that?” 

“When I’ve not been working.” Ash shrugged. There was something awkward about the way he held himself; for a shorter man, he made Stuart feel like he towered over him. That was just a trick though, Stuart wasn’t naïve and Ash probably got plenty of customers if he appeared submissive and stroked a few egos. 

“You were very gentle with me, more than the doctor that gave me these.” He gestured to the stitches. “I thought I could thank you properly.”

And there it was. He slid into Stuart’s personal space, somehow taking him by enough surprise that when he stepped back his heels bumped into the wall. 

“No, it’s okay. I don’t…” He shook his head, but whatever he was going to say he didn’t want nor do, he was silenced by warm lips against his. 

When he got back to the ambulance he kept rubbing the back of his head, remembering how rough the wall was, how it caught his hair like Velcro. Rachid wouldn’t stop giving him the kind of looks that made him wonder if anyone had seen. Could he get fired for kissing a prostitute? 

He set to thinking about anything else that he could occupy his mind with, as long as he didn’t remember the flicker of Ash’s tongue across his lips before he pulled away, and the card with his phone number that he’d slipped into Stuart’s trouser pocket. The card that he would carefully slide behind his blood donor card in his wallet for safe keeping the first chance he got. The card with the phone number he definitely wouldn’t be calling…


End file.
